


Do I? I Do...

by dracos_lover_always



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracos_lover_always/pseuds/dracos_lover_always
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You end up taking Sherlock to a wedding... mushy stuff... yeah love and feelings stuff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I? I Do...

“What do you guys think?” The dress hung loosely round your knees, swaying as you walked into the living room in which you shared with the detective and the doctor. It was black with a beautiful lace clad sweetheart neckline. It was a rich navy blue, the white lace complimenting it perfectly “Not too much? I don’t wanna out shine the bride but…” you looked down at the dress admiring the detail. “… It’s the only dress that I own.”

“No, it’s really pretty (Name). You didn’t say you were going to a wedding,” John smiled, his eyes following the swish of your dress. His compliment caused you to blush and stare at the matching blue shoes. Sherlock showed little interest in you and more the celling; he didn’t seem to have noticed your presence in the room.

“Yeah… an old friend of mine. Her childhood sweet heart. So this isn’t too much?” You asked.

“Not at all. Perfect for a wedding,” John replied. “You going with friends I take it?”

“Actually I was wondering if you would come, John. Its next weekend. I mean if you can’t don’t worry… just when I got the invite I was… well not single so I put plus one.” You had been in a long term relationship with a guy for just over two years when it ended. That’s what brought you here to 221B Baker Street. Mrs Hudson was an old family friend of yours, so naturally when your mother was doing her usual of telling everyone else your private business, she gave you a call to offer you a place to stay. That’s how you ended up becoming part of the crime busting team; often you’d help on research of cases, ‘cos you were a sergeant at Scotland Yard. The great company (well Mrs Hudson and John) and the close proximity to work was what kept you in the box room.

“Oh, (Name). I’m going to see Harry. She actually wants to ‘fix things’ for once. I can’t blow her off… I’m so sorry if I’d known I would-” you cut him off.

“John it’s okay. It was a long shot anyway… I could ask Lestrade. He’s always free.”

“I’m free.” Sherlock pipped up, still looking at the celling. You looked over at John trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t offend Sherlock, not that he would even get offended. John however had no problem saying what could upset a normal human to the heartless detective.

“You may be free, Sherlock, but I doubt that (Name) would want you to go. You do have a tendency to upset people. Also you don’t dance and maybe (Name) wants to dance.” John scoffed, mentally laughing at the thought of Sherlock at a wedding. “She wants to go out and have fun.”

“I have fun. And I’ll have you know that I can dance. Mother forced me into it as a child.” Still he continued to watch the celling carefully looking at every detail as if it would change under his gaze. “I wouldn’t mind escorting you…”

“Really?” Your voice was laced with surprise. “Yeah… um… I guess that would be good. As long as you’re on your best behaviour,” you joked as you left the room to get out of the dress. A small smile began to tug at your lips. Why? Well maybe because you have a slightly major crush on the sociopath that you live with. He may have been rude, blunt and have no concept of human emotion but there was still a side of him you cared for. On some cases where people had been scared out their minds he was always good at supporting them even if it put him out of his comfort zone. He also had a sharp wit that could occasionally get him into trouble but was a great tool for putting down twats (*cough*ANDERSON*cough*). The thought of you and him dancing together just made the smile grow even more. You knew nothing would come of this but there is never a harm in wishing is there?

**Sherlock’s Point of View…**

“Yeah… um… I guess that would be good as long as you’re on your best behaviour,” she giggled leaving the two men alone in the room. My eyes were still fixated on the celling of the flat. I didn’t bother to look up at her. I couldn’t deal with the stab of sweet-pain that hit me every time I saw her. I didn’t know what it was… Maybe I was ill. No can’t be that. Illness isn’t selective to the person in which you see. No. No. No. Sadly my train of thought was cut short by John.

“You will behave for her won’t you, Sherlock. Don’t embarrass her,” he collected the mugs that were scattered on our table clinking as he moved them. “You know she’s shy, she won’t want to be centre of attention so none of your funny business! Okay! She needs to get a break, constantly dealing with you can be hard. Let her have one day off.”

“I don’t intend to hurt her, John.” I answered. Of course I didn’t. Why would I? She is a wonderful woman. I enjoy her company as much as I did John’s now. Her expressions to my ‘incoherent babblings’ always made me smile; though she couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend what I was saying her smile and eyes would reassure me that I was right. Even when others thought me rude, she would still be as polite as always attempting not to damage my spirit or ego. No I would never hurt her. I couldn’t. “I will ‘behave’ as you put it.”

“I know.” A silence fell between us as he left taking the cups with him into the kitchen. “Sherlock…” his voice suggested he wished to ask me something. I grunted in response, closing my eyes to take a leisurely visit to my mind palace. “Sherlock… do you like… Jesus how would you know?” An intended rhetorical question that I planned on answering.

“I assure you, John, I would know. With me being one of- no the smartest person on this planet, I believe I would be able to deal with one of your nonsense questions. Now what do you want or can I go back into my mind palace without being disturbed.”

“Fine. Do you like (Name)? You know… more than a friend?” His head came around the corner of the door to look at me. He was only met with a blank expression on my part. “It’s just the way you look at her sometimes. And when she talks you smile a bit… which for you is rare. And you have offered to go to a wedding. You know what weddings are right? They are events where people get soppy, ad emotional. Often they cry a bit and it’s full of people wanting to have a good time. Which to you is the worst type.” I couldn’t really respond to him. I tried, occasionally opening my mouth to answer but immediately shutting it. Did I like (Name)? Is that what I was feeling when I saw her? A stab of want every time. Did I smile when she talked? It all started to come to me. I noticed the little things with her, even by my standards. The way she played with bits of her hair when watching TV. The way she lit up when she picked up her favourite book. Whenever someone complimented her, whether for her appearance or her intelligence, she would look down and blush; the blush wouldn’t fade for around five minutes even then leaving a small hint of her flattery. “So… Mr I’m-the-smartest-man-in-the-world looks like you can’t answer that question.”

“No I can’t answer that question.”

“No I can. Yes, I do like her. I think. To be honest the human state of mind has always been a part that I struggle with-”

“I’m aware of that, Sherlock.” John laughed, leaving again for the kitchen. I followed. Choosing to ignore his sarcasm I continued.

“How would I know? I often think about her and I notice the smallest things about her…” I told him everything from the feeling I got when I saw her to the way I felt the need to hold her when she had a bad day.

“See that…” John pointed the end of the teaspoon he held in his hand at me, “That right there is the definition of being in love Sherlock!”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Well how do I get rid of it?”

“You can’t. All you can do is go with it. Tell her. She might feel the same for all we know. Woo her. I’m going to bed, good night lover boy.” With that he left climbing the stairs to his and (Name’s) floor.

“Woo her…” I whispered. How do you ‘woo’ someone?

  **Your Point of View**

The week had gone fairly quickly. Sherlock had been odd. Well odder than usual. He wasn't once rude, he didn't give smart ass comments and on Tuesday he even asked to help you with the shopping for the food which he always complained was a dull event; "I'd rather pull out an eye using nothing but a stick then go shopping for the food. Most of which I don't even eat." Is what he would always say when asked by John to help him.

You ignored most of it, thinking Sherlock was going through a stage or trying to butter you up for something, probably the way he was going to behave at the wedding.

When Saturday finally came you started getting ready at around seven, listening to Sherlock's violin play in the living room as you showered. The warm water washed over you, covering every inch of you body in a silky glimmer. You watched as the soap suds trailed the length of your arms, leaping from your finger tips to the floor. Turning off the shower, you wrapped a towel around your body patting your hair dry with another. After brushing your teeth, savouring the peppermint taste that nestled on your tongue, you padded with wet feet through to the living room, still wrapped in the soft towel. Sherlock continued to play one of his pieces, facing out to the world and swaying in his blue nightgown. As usual, he was lost in the music never noticing you in the room. With him being oblivious to you, you could stare a little, watching the detective look at peace. It was a truly beautiful sight. You needed to talk to him about time but you didn't want to disturb him...

"You okay (Name)?" John perked up from behind you. Much like Sherlock you had no idea of the presence of your housemate in the kitchen. "Sorry didn't mean to make you jump."

"No. Its fine. Thanks...um... sorry. I was a bit distracted..." you stuttered noticing Sherlock had stopped playing and become interested in your convocation.

"I can see," John smirked into his cup. You shot him a look asking him to further elaborate but Sherlock stopped him.

"Are you okay (Name)?"

"Yeah... yes I'm fine. I just wanted to remind you that the service starts at half one. The cab is booked for one so we have time to get there in case of traffic. Please... don't go harpooning any animals making us late," you smiled up at the detective through your eyelashes.

"I promise. I shall behave," he returned the smile in the warmest possible way he could.

"Good," you made to start going to your room. "Now don't disturb me... otherwise I will look like a total wreck."

(TIME SKIP COS I DONT WEAR MAKE UP AND HAVE NO IDEA HOW ONE WOULD APPLY OR HOW TO WRITE ABOUT IT)

You stared at your face in the mirror. You chose the natural look for the wedding, the most extravagant make up item on your face was a lip stick in a deep red. By the time you had dealt with make up(repeatedly stabbing yourself in the eye with mascara) and got into your dress you still had an hour left until the cab was due. Enough time to deal with your now naturally dry hair. You decided to style it up, even though you preferred it down. Up looks classy you told yourself. It was in a business pony-tail, curled with a small braid running from your over grown fridge to the hair band. When this was done you had about fifteen minuets left. Slipping into your shoes, you walked down stairs too meet Sherlock who was looking especially dapper in a suit that looked new to you. When his eyes caught you he smiled, letting an unlikely compliment slip from his lips.

"You look...stunning," he was on the verge of being speechless, which for Sherlock is highly unlikely.

"Sherlock you saw me in this dress the other day, were you not paying any attention?" You giggled finishing the last few steps to finally come to his level.

"No. I wasn't." He whispered almost to himself. You were about to make a sarcastic comment when Mrs Hudson spoke, you hadn't noticed her siting in John's chair.

"Come here. Lets have a look at you," you did as she asked and swayed into the lounge, the dress playing with your knees as you walked. "Oh, (Name)! You look beautiful! John come and have a look." John came in and looked truly stunned by your appearance. You couldn't help the rush of blood to your cheeks and the warmth against your body. Your eyes followed the sway of your dress, hoping that everyone would stop staring at you.

"Wow. You look hot (Name)..." This made you laugh, John was like a brother so you knew he was doing it to make you feel less self-conscious. "Its a shame I couldn't come. Sherlock play nicely with (Names) friends okay?" John gave you a light hug and Mrs Hudson a peck to the head. When he came to Sherlock he did something he never did with him; he hugged him, whispering something in his ear before giving him a pat in the shoulder and saying his good byes. Not long after the cabbie honked his horn alerting you to his were-abouts.

"We should leave," You grabbed your bag and headed for the stairs down stairs. "By Mrs Hudson."

"By dears," she called after you and Sherlock who was right behind you on the stairs. "Sherlock do be nice."

"I will! God I can be nice occasionally." You reached the cab but before you could get in Sherlock stopped you, "Can I make one very minor adjustment to your outfit, if I may?"

"Yeah..." you replied, a bit sceptical. One of his long arms snaked around to your hair, taking grasp of band holding it all in. In one swift movement his elegant fingers had taken it down, leaving only your fringe up.

"Sorry, just I lo-like your hair down. It looks really... um ... cute? Yeah...cute down..." You had to say you agreed, but when he said it you couldn't help but smile a blush once again covering your cheeks.

"Thanks," you smiled before climbing into the cab. Sherlock not far behind.

**Sherlock's Point of View**

Johns words ringed in my head the whole service. 'Just tell her'. As if just telling her was that simple. All week I couldn't get the fact I loved her off my mind. I researched how to 'woo' someone, the results were useless: compliment her, make her feel special, get to know her. Others said to get gifts but not what. Apparently if we were to have a 'chance' I should be close but not clingy and never say I love you until 'it feels right'. What does that mean? How on earth am I meant to be close to her but not make her feel suffocated? And why am I not aloud to tell her I love her when that's exactly what I do? I love her and yet I'm not meant to tell her, even though according to someone's tumblr account 'all a girl wants is to be loved'. And John wonders why I don't like to get involved in emotions.

It didn't help that that the whole way through the wedding she just looked... I don't know the appropriate term but amazing, stunning, beautiful. I couldn't stop staring! all I wanted to do the whole service was hold her, even just her hand just knowing she was with me was perfectly good enough for me. But no I had to pay attention, and act as if I cared about someone else's sodding love story. It got even worse at the reception, she was sat so close I couldn't help but touch her and yet it wasn't enough.  Many of the brides family and some of (Names) friends spoke of how we looked cute together, each time she would simply blush and shake her head to disagree . Did she not want to think about it because it was embarrassing or did she not want to think about it because she didn't like the idea? God why are normal people so hard to explain. Only she is not normal not to me, not ever. There is something so... wonderful about her that causes her to cloud my judgement, which doesn't even bother me.

After the meal and the dullest of all the speeches I have ever heard, the bride and groom had their first dance. After around a minuet people began to file onto the floor. I took her hand giving her no choice but to follow me.

"Sherlock," she cried, trying to resist.

"You said you wanted to dance."

"Technically that was John." She replied.

"Well tough. Were dancing." I pulled her close to me guiding her hands around my neck while mine found her waist. "Just follow me." She did so. Never looking up at me. I wanted to see her face, I needed to see her. I couldn't tell her if she wasn't looking at me. I went to hold her face but the music stopped.

"Right folks. The bride and groom would like to ask you to go outside for the fireworks, there are blankets set out so out you go..." said the best man. We did as asked, everyone filing out onto the grass to find a space to sit. I sat her down, sliding into the spot next to her. We sat there for a while waiting for the display when she started to get closer to me.

**Your Point of View**

You couldn't help it you were freezing. You decided that the detective wouldn't mind if you shuffled into him a bit in an attempt to steal some heat from him.

"(Name), you could?" He asked sounding rather worried.

"Little bit. I'm okay. Just gonna borrow your warmth," you laughed. Suddenly you felt material being draped lovingly over your shoulder."Sherlock, I am okay."

"Shh, I don't want you to catch a cold. Come here." He pulled you into him, resting his hand where he had previously had it while you danced. This was so unlike Sherlock. He wasn't the holding type. Yeah he would hold someone if they just had a traumatic experience and occasionally the sobbing widow but never you. You hugged John, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson but in the time that had lived with the boys you never ever hugged him. This was just not normal, even by Sherlock's standards. Not that your complaining...

The fireworks began suddenly causing you to jump getting a little closer to the detective.

"Sorry, Sherlock." You whispered, pulling away again. You wanted to get closer to him but... no you couldn't. He wouldn't like that. He had behaved all day, you didn't wanna upset him or make him fidgety. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he heard the phone in his jacket pocket go off. "Oh here you go." You pulled it out your pocket, taking a quick glance at the screen. "Its John."

"Oh, what does he want?"

"I dunno..." You unlocked the phone(Sherlock may have been the smartest man in the world but using 1111 as a passcode wasn't the brightest move), you looked down at the screen, confused as hell when you read the message. "Its says: 'Have you told her? What did she say?' Sherlock? What the hell in he on about? Did you break something?"

"Why is that when I need to talk to you or John you always jump to the conclusion that I broke something?" He smiled

"Well you shot the wall. You blew up the kitchen last month. Since I've moved in we have goon through thirty mug-" you suddenly were brought back to reality from your rant when the man beside you chuckled.  You glanced over at him and saw a smile lighting up his face. It was rare that he smiled, I mean really smiled. You had done that. You made the coldest man smile, that alone warmed your heart. "What?"

"You." He replied, as if you knew what was going on inside his head.

"What about me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Not in the slightest," he took the phone out of your hand, replying to the Doctors text at lighting speed.

"What did John mean? Was he talking about me?"

"Yes... I don't really know how this works but..."

"The great Sherlock Holmes lost for words, that's unusual," you giggled, trying to ease his tension.

"(Name), I know that I'm not meant to do this...but I love you. The people on Tumblr say I'm... I shouldn't say it yet. Which I don't understand because apparently all girls want is someone to love them. And why on earth am I not meant to be to 'clingy'. I want to be close but that's not right apparently. I asked John and he said I should 'woo' you. Just 'woo' you no information on how to do that just... just woo you. I can tell you about all the chemical reactions that occur during love but I have no idea how I am meant to... meant to be in love or how to act on it..." His ramble just kept going. You couldn't really pay much more attention to it you were still stuck on the 'I love you'. Did he mean that? Did he like...no love you? "(Name)?"

"Uh yeah sorry..."

"Did you get any of that? To be honest I'm not sure I did..." 

"No. No I got that... Well the most part I kinda got left behind at the I love you but yeah I got most of it..." You giggled trying to ease the tension forming between yours and the detectives bodies. As you turned to take a peek at him, trying to see his expression, you got more than you expected. His lips were only inches from yours and before you had time to assess the mood his lips were pressed firmly against yours.  At first, both of you were tense but as you eased a little it became easier, far less awkward. A warm tingle ran down your spin as his hand came to cup your face. His lips were rough, chapped against yours but strangely you found it comforting. When you finally came up for air, a smirk played at his lips, causing the corners of his lips to curl in the cutest of ways. With out even talking, he simply laced his hand around your waist pulling you into him. He leaned into you, getting closer to your ear,

"I hope you know..." He playfully kissed at your jawline, "That you are mine now. I don't ever intend on letting you go... you know if you don't mind." You couldn't help the small giggle that passed through your lips,

"Of course I don't," you nuzzled further into his frame, looking back up to the sky. "I will always be yours."


End file.
